


I Want to Be In The Room

by hamiltons



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Burr is angsty, The Room Where it Happens fic, also there are parts in here that can be taken a number of ways, hamilton is sad, i had a lot of fun writing this tbh, i love it tho, i'll leave that up to you to decide, its basically a rewrite of Room Where It Happens but in Burrs view, sorry for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:06:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8229410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamiltons/pseuds/hamiltons
Summary: Aaron Burr wants to be in the room where it happens. (Essentially a rewrite of The Room Where it Happens told from Burr's perspective.)





	

It was entirely too fucking cold outside to be walking home. Burr sighed as he made his way from the cold streets into a small tavern on the way to his home. He told himself it would just be one drink to forget about work altogether tonight. And that's what he planned on doing as he sat down at the bar and ordered himself a rum and Coke. One turned into three. It wasn't in his plans, however, when a certain Alexander Hamilton plunked himself down in the seat next to him, seemingly not noticing Burr. Burr tapped Hamilton on the shoulder, making sure it was him. After three drinks, Burr wasn't thinking of why he wanted to talk to Hamilton, but he knew that he did.   
Hamilton turned around.  
“Ahh Mr. Secretary!” Burr's welcome was warm. Hamilton had been an old friend to him, since before the war. Back when Hamilton was still nothing but an orphan immigrant who had nothing to lose.   
“Mister Burr, Sir.” Hamilton's response was tight lipped and short. A direct contrast from his normal long phrases and exuberant nature. It was obvious he wasn't about to start a conversation with Burr.   
So Burr took it upon himself. “Did you hear the news about good old General Mercer?”   
Hamilton now turned to face Burr, “No.”   
Burr smiled a bit, “You know Clermont Street?”  
“Yeah.”   
“They renamed it after him. The Mercer legacy is secure.”   
“Sure.”   
“And all he had to do was die.” A joke, Burr trying to keep the smile on his face.   
“Well that's a lot less work.” It was hard to tell if Hamilton was going along with the joke.  
“We oughta give it a try.” Burr went on with it anyway.   
“Ha.” Hamilton would barely look Burr in the eye.   
They fell into a silence that only lasted a minute before Burr asked, “Now how're you gonna get your debt plan through?” He had failed both of his objectives from when he walked into the tavern. 1. Only having one drink. He was finishing his fourth. 2. Don't think about work. He was curious about Hamilton. Burr knew he had to pass his debt plan, and the only way to do that would be to get the votes of Thomas Jefferson and James Madison.   
“I guess I'm gonna finally have to listen to you.” Hamilton seemed weary as he spoke.   
“Really?” One eyebrow raised.  
“Talk less, smile more.” It was almost as if Hamilton was making fun of him.   
Burr laughed, eyebrow still raised.   
“Do whatever it takes to get my plan on the congress floor.” Hamilton seemed wistful, as if he were giving away his pride by negotiating.   
“Now Madison and Jefferson are merciless.” They were the people who would take until they were satisfied. Burr was worried for Hamilton.   
“Well, hate the sin love the sinner.” Hamilton knew what he was getting into.  
Burr was going to respond when the door opened, a gust of cold air following it. James Madison stood there and looked at the two sitting at the bar. “Hamilton!”  
Hamilton made to stand, “I'm sorry Burr, I've gotta go.” Madison looked ominous, almost sinister as he stood, waiting for Hamilton.  
“But-” Burr reached out a hand to stop him.   
“Decisions are happening over dinner.” And just like that Hamilton, swinging his coat over his shoulders, nodded at Madison and the door closed behind them. Burr's hand was still outstretched.  
He downed the rest of his drink and ordered another.  
Two Virginians and an immigrant walk into a room. Diametrically opposed; foes.  
Hamilton was nervous, to say the least. He knew what Madison and Jefferson were capable of. They were the only ones standing in the way of his debt plan being passed. He needed their votes. There was no other way.   
They emerge with a compromise having opened doors that were previously closed; bros.   
Walking into the room, Hamilton would have never expected the dinner to go how it did. He thought the dinner would wound his pride, not his dignity.   
The immigrant emerges with unprecedented financial power, a system he can shape however he wants.  
Hamilton seemed like he came out on top, he got more than he gave. Didn't he?  
The Virginians emerge with the nation's capitol. And here's the piece de resistance: No one else was in the room where it happened.   
It was very late. Burr lost count of how many drinks he had. He thought about Hamilton, wondering if he should look for him. That thought was quickly shot down.   
He knew it was time to go home. The tavern was closing very shortly and he was too drunk to stand straight. There was a single thought in his head, and it bounced around in his head as he stumbled home; and as he climbed into bed to sleep that night. No one else was in the room where it happens.   
Hamilton didn't show up to work the next day.  
Burr nearly didn't either. Drinking so much last night was a mistake.   
When he noticed Hamilton wasn't at work, he was mildly worried.   
When he noticed Madison and Jefferson talking about Hamilton to a crowd after work that day, he was concerned.   
Should he have gone to find Hamilton the night before?   
Thomas claimed, “Alexander was on Washington's doorstep one day in distress and disarray.” Burr could only remember a single time in his life that Alexander didn't look distressed and that was his wedding day.   
Thomas continued. “Alexander said-” Burr could almost hear Hamilton's voice, his voice from the night in the tavern; almost scared, empty, saying, “I've nowhere else to turn.” How long had he sounded like that? The thought sickened him. “and basically begged me to join the fray.”   
“I approached Madison and said 'I know you hate him but let's hear what he has to say,'” Jefferson hit Madison's arm playfully. “Well, I arranged the meeting, I arranged the menu, the venue, the seating!” Thomas seemed too proud. What had really gone down in the room where it happened? No one really knew how the parties got to yes, the pieces that are sacrificed in every game of chess. We just assume that it happens... But no one else was in the room where it happens.   
Thomas went on. “Madison was grappling with the fact that not every issue can be settled by committee.” He nudged the shorter man with a grin. “And congress was already fighting over where to put the capital, it wasn't pretty,” Thomas had the audacity to laugh.   
Madison took over, “Then Jefferson approached with a dinner and invite. Well I responded with Virginian insight-”   
Burr could remember the conversation now. “Maybe we can solve one problem with another, and win a victory for the southerners, in other words-” Madison and Jefferson were in Madison's office. Burr was eavesdropping.  
Jefferson laughed.   
“A quid pro quo.”  
Jefferson considered this, “I suppose.”  
“Wouldn't you like to work a little closer to home?” Madison was smiling.   
Jefferson did too, “Actually I would”  
“Well, I propose a Potomac.” Madison poured them each a glass of bourbon.  
“And you'll provide him his votes?”  
“Well, we'll see how it goes.” They weren't even originally going to give him anything in return. Only take.   
“Let's go.” They drank.   
No!   
No one else was in the room where it happened...   
“My God,” Burr was talking to himself. He couldn't listen to that conversation. “In God we trust.” He whispered, “But we never really know what got discussed... 'Click boom' then it happened.” Burr imitated a pistol with his hand. He wasn't sure why. No one else was in the room where it happened.  
Hamilton was at work the next day. Burr cornered him.   
“Alexander Hamilton!” He looked small. Frail. Scared. “What did they say to you to get you to sell New York City down the river?” It was forward. Burr was never forward. What was happening to him?  
“Did Washington know about the dinner? Was there presidential pressure to deliver?”  
Hamilton could hear Washington's voice ringing out. He suppressed a shudder. “Figure it out, Alexander. That's an order from your commander.” He said nothing as he stared at Burr, evidence of a lack of sleep on his face.   
“Did you know even then it doesn't matter where you put the U.S. Capital-?” The capital can be moved. That effected next to nothing... Hamilton really did come out on top.  
“'Cause we'll have the banks. We're in the same spot.” Hamilton's voice was quiet. It wasn't tired like in the bar. It was small, like he had something to hide, or someone to hide from.   
“You got more than you gave.” This was as much a question as it was a statement. Burr's curiosity grew. He needed to know more. He was obsessed with the thought. What went down in the room where it happened?   
“And I wanted what I got. When you've got skin in the game, you stay in the game. But you don't get to win unless you play in the game”  
Hamilton was moving closer to Burr. He was taunting him.   
“Oh, you get love for it, you get hate for it, you get nothing if you wait for it.”  
Burr jolted back as if Hamilton had burned him. His face grew warm with embarrassment.   
“God help and forgive me, I want to build something that's gonna outlive me! What do you want, Burr? What do you want, Burr?” Hamilton kept getting closer.   
“If you stand for nothing, Burr, what'll you fall for?” Hamilton was shouting, red faced and desperate looking. He kept getting closer to Burr.  
“I...” Burr was eye to eye with Hamilton. “wanna be in the room where it happens.”   
Hamilton looked almost shocked.   
Burr repeated himself. “I wanna be in the room where it happens.”  
He was done with Hamilton. The little fucker always got his way, he was always in the room; that damn room!  
“I've got to be in the room!” Burr was muttering to himself. If he had looked up, he wouldn't have missed the shock and mild concern on Hamilton's face.  
“The art of the compromise...” Burr continued.  
“...but we don't get a say in what they trade away...” Hamilton wasn't sure whether he should stay or leave.  
“...we dream in the dark, for the most part.” Hamilton laid a hand on Burr's shoulder.   
“I've got to be in the room where it happens!” Hamilton recoiled as Burr shouted. Hamilton simply turned and walked out of the room, with one glance back to Burr, who was still standing where Hamilton had left him.   
With the final glance back, Burr thought for the first time; Weehawken, dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this written for so long and kept forgetting to post it i am sorry. also im working on an internet AU right now so be prepared for that one. comments and/or kudos are always appreciated! and hmu with ideas for fics and i'll love you forever tbh.


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